


Arpeggios

by bisexualbluesargent



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 21:52:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19385347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualbluesargent/pseuds/bisexualbluesargent
Summary: “Oh,” Tamaki said curiously, like he had discovered something. Hikaru whipped his gaze back to him. “I see.”





	Arpeggios

Hikaru picked at the seams of the seat he was sitting on, looked out the window at nothing. Shifted. Let his mind wander from his homework. Tugged it back again. Honey and Mori had a test today, he had heard. The club room was pretty much empty, save for Tamaki, leisurely playing something at the piano. Did he ever study, Hikaru wondered. His grades were surely abysmal.

Kyouya was God-knows-where. Kaoru had muttered something or the other about asking a teacher for missing work but Hikaru knew for a fact that they had missed nothing of the sort over the past few weeks. He made it a rule, though, to not think extremely hard about Kyouya and Kaoru and their simultaneous disappearances. That was really too much for his brain to handle.

“What song is that?” Hikaru’s voice seemed to bounce across the wide space between himself and Tamaki. His words weren’t exactly oozing with enthusiasm, but he had decided that boredom was definitely not the most endearing state of mind. Tamaki slowly stopped playing, ending on a pleasant chord.

“It’s called Reverie,” he said, kindly, turning his head in Hikaru’s direction. “Composed by Claude Debussy.”

Hikaru was walking over. His footsteps echoed through the rafters; in the sunlight, he could see motes of dust floating down, easy, easy. It really was too quiet. “Teach me how to play something.”

Tamaki laughed. Hikaru had not said something funny, so he was annoyed at this. Tamaki stretched into a genuine smile. “I’d love to. Although, you won’t be able to play something that complicated that quickly.”

“I’m not stupid, Suoh. Teach me Hot Cross Buns or some shit. Or Frere Jacques. I’m just bored.”

“Flattering as always,” mused Tamaki, trickling his fingers onto a bunch of seemingly random keys in succession. “You can sit down, if you want.” It still sounded lovely, though.

“That’s called an arpeggio, huh.” Hikaru plopped onto the piano bench in a spot to the right of him.

“Yeah,” Tamaki beamed. “Here, I’ll scoot over so you can sit in the center.”

Hikaru huffed. He should have gone to find Haruhi. Or to harass some other first years. Or to walk in on Kyouya and Kaoru. The look on their faces would’ve been worth any other awkward feelings. This was like… he didn’t know. An elementary school lesson? A trip down memory lane to when he used to have a nanny?

“Middle C is right here,” Tamaki was saying. He really enjoyed attention, Hikaru noticed. They were similar in that respect, he supposed. Tamaki, though, was an easy person to figure out. Easy to rile up. Easy to bring back down. “That doesn’t really matter at the moment, though. I feel like Fur Elise would be fun to learn.”

Hikaru waved at him airily. “All right, sure. I mean, that’s probably too hard for me, but you’re the expert and all that.”

“I’ll only teach you the right hand,” said Tamaki, but Hikaru could tell he was pleased. See, Hikaru was careful to keep his real emotions somewhere difficult to find. His true feelings were always translated into a language only Kaoru and maybe Haruhi really understood. His disappointment and his anger tended to force their way out of him, sometimes. He was aware of his flaws, of course, but he appreciated the people that took the steps to learn what they were. That, he believed, was being known.

“I could do the left hand part. It’ll be a duet!” He was so excited. Hikaru laughed at him. Tamaki had not said something funny, but he was not annoyed at this. He played the first few bars of the song, trilling a white and black key a couple times.

“Okay,” said Hikaru, repeating it.

“You’re a natural,” Tamaki replied brightly. Hikaru rolled his eyes. “Now add this.” He played a few more notes.

Hikaru was glaring at his hands. “Do it again.” Tamaki had very long, beautifully trimmed fingers. He tried to repeat it, missing a couple notes, stumbling over others. He wasn’t even reading sheet music, he thought frustratedly.

Tamaki had gotten up, was reaching over him. Hikaru was suddenly aware of the lack of distance between them. “If you move your hands here and spread them out-“ Hikaru swallowed, irritated- “like this, it’s easier to get all the notes in order. A lot of piano playing is about hand positions.”

“Ah,” said Hikaru. He wanted Tamaki to move. He could feel the fabric of their uniforms pressed against each other. He really didn’t have to be that close to him. No concept of personal space, as usual. He watched Tamaki play the notes again. And again. One more time with feeling. Tamaki had a way of playing that betrayed years of experience, of love for the act. He made it look easy, flinging emotions left and right.

“No, like this.” Tamaki took Hikaru’s hand, gently moved it onto the right keys. Hikaru didn’t like this at all. He really didn’t. Heard his breath hitch, cursed at himself inwardly. Felt his trousers get a bit tighter, cursed some more.

Tamaki was looking at him. Hikaru felt his face heating up. Red was not his color, his mind was screaming. No ginger can pull it off, his mother had always said. Tamaki lifted Hikaru’s other hand. His touch was so light, the room, silent. Hikaru attempted to pretend to watch the clock on the far wall.

“Oh,” Tamaki said curiously, like he had discovered something. Hikaru whipped his gaze back to him. “I see.”

Hikaru said “shut up” because on one hand, this was definitely more exciting than doing homework, but on the other, it was surely embarrassing and surely something that anyone else in the club would hold against him. Tamaki would probably whip it out eventually, to tease him. He seemed like a saint, sure. Stupid, yes. But he really was sadistic, at the right moments.

But Tamaki was running his hand along Hikaru’s jawline, so he stopped caring. Tamaki was using the tone he sometimes used on girls, with the half-lidded eyes and the almost-mumbled declarations of love. “Hikaru.”

“Are you sure I’m not Kaoru?” said Hikaru, just to mix things up.

“Ha,” said Tamaki. “I’m about ninety-nine percent sure.”

Hikaru smiled at him, then thought a moment before grinning cruelly. Tamaki’s smile faltered in the tiniest way. “Fine,” he said, pulling Tamaki’s tie down towards him, hundred dollar silk and all.

“Fine,” breathed Tamaki, kissing him softly. Hikaru did like it, he’d admit. Tamaki seemed to be trying to envelop him, leaning farther into Hikaru as he pushed his tongue into his mouth hesitantly, like he was asking permission. Hikaru almost snorted, letting him do it. Tamaki almost fell onto the spot on the bench next to him, typically graceful and ungraceful at the same time. He cupped Hikaru’s face with his hands. Placed kisses on his cheekbones. Licking his neck. Hikaru could feel a flush going down, down.

Tamaki picked up one of Hikaru’s hands again, brought it up to his mouth. Nearly smirked at him. _Well, Jesus,_ thought Hikaru as he felt Tamaki’s lips around his fingertip. He licked in circles around his skin, sucked. He was being very enthusiastic.

“You’re really good at that,” said Hikaru to him, because he was, and Tamaki _whined_. Hikaru would have thought this was funny, too, at any other time.

Tamaki took Hikaru’s fingers out of his mouth with a pop. “Want me to teach you something else?” he asked, voice low. He took Hikaru’s hand and slowly rubbed the outline of his own dick with it. Hikaru breathed deeply, watched him do it.

“Corny,” he said, amused. He wasn’t moving his own hand. Tamaki was hard, his breaths coming in oppositely short bursts. He felt every movement of Tamaki’s hand, every fold of skin as he pressed the heel of Hikaru’s onto his cock.

Hikaru finally moved his hand, lightly squeezing him. He trailed his fingers over the fabric. It was sewn quite well. “You like that, Tamaki?” He slid his hand over his cock, again and again.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tamaki said, moaning. His words and groans started to meld together. He leaned further into Hikaru, almost resting his head on his shoulder. He was panting.

“Tell me how much,” said Hikaru lowly, smugly. Tamaki was nuzzling into his neck, sucking his skin. Hikaru hoped he would leave a mark. He sighed as Tamaki’s lips slid across his shoulders towards his collarbone, pushing his shirt down with his unoccupied hand. Hikaru couldn’t remember when his blazer had come off.

“ _So_ much,” a breathy Tamaki replied. “I _want_ you, Hikaru. _Please._ ” He punctuated this by reaching down and clumsily gripping Hikaru’s cock, making him grunt inelegantly.

“That’s right.” Hikaru was unzipping Tamaki’s pants. “Just like that, Suoh.” Turned his mouth to speak into his ear. “Tamaki.”

“Hikaru,” Tamaki chimed back, somehow, mirroring his action by reaching for his zipper. “Baby.”

“You’re so good at this, Tamaki,” Hikaru repeated, melodic. He forgot about Tamaki’s dick for a second while moaning. Tamaki rubbed his finger against his slit. “Oh, keep doing that.” He remembered himself, sparing a glance towards Tamaki’s briefs, beautifully tailored (he often hated the way his mind worked). Moved past them quickly to bring out Tamaki’s cock, hard and wet and almost leaking.

“Mm,” Tamaki murmured into his ear. “Please.”

Hikaru half-moved onto Tamaki’s lap, adjusted so that their dicks were against each other. Tamaki laughed lightly through another whine. “I’ll give it to you,” said Hikaru. “I’ll give it _all_ to you.” Perhaps this was a bit too romantic. He didn’t exactly care. He slid his dick against Tamaki’s slowly.

“Oh,” said Tamaki. “Oh.”

As the movements got faster, Tamaki looked at Hikaru and said between breaths, “I’ve figured you out.”

“Really,” said Hikaru, annoyed that Tamaki loved having conversations even on the brink of orgasm. He gasped as Tamaki moved his hips just so.

“Yeah,” Tamaki said, and he didn’t elaborate any further, which was even more infuriating, but then he took his hand and brushed his fingers across Hikaru’s lips. Hikaru looked at him, wide-eyed.

“Is that it,” Hikaru tried to dead-pan, but Tamaki slid his fingers into his mouth and he was out of things to say. Tamaki slowed them down a bit, thrust harder. Hikaru wasn’t going to last very long.

“Well, actually, no, but I-“ a moan- “I thought you’d like it if I-“

Hikaru sucked on his fingers, seeing white at the edge of his vision, keening. He wanted to press his cock into Tamaki’s more, more, wanted to run his hands down his arms. He thought about sucking his cock, about fucking him, about a shirtless chest, about _everything_ -

Hikaru came, slick and all over Tamaki’s dick, fighting for breath, hips in a rhythm with Tamaki’s small noises as he came, too.

Hikaru felt good. Great, even. He laughed, the genuine sound ringing through the hall, filling it up as Tamaki looked up at him, eyes giddy. Hikaru sighed happily, stretching his arms out above his head, pulling up his boxers. “Well, shit.”

Tamaki grinned back at him. “Uh huh.”

“Oh, shut up,” said Hikaru, again at a loss for a good comeback. “Fur fucking Elise. God.”

“We should practice more in the future,” said Tamaki, jeering. He whipped his hair back, tucked a strand behind his ear. It was so dramatic.

“What did you mean, then,” said Hikaru, pretending not to care too much. _I’ve figured you out._ There was a butterfly fluttering next to the window pane. Some students were feeding a duck near a far-off fountain. Dumbasses.

“When?” said Tamaki innocently. Hikaru slapped him on the shoulder. He laughed. “Okay, okay. I’m not going to tell you. I know you like to figure things out for yourself.”

Hikaru didn’t even argue with this, for some reason. “Hm,” he said, watching Tamaki begin to arrange some sheet music above the keys. “I guess I do.”

 


End file.
